


in act more graceful and humane

by daylightisbreaking (wingless)



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Demon Summoning AU, Dirty Talk, F/M, Kissing, M/M, Manipulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Magic, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, Virginity, a touch of mind control, urban fantasy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23007064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingless/pseuds/daylightisbreaking
Summary: Two young mage prodigies summon a demon, and get far more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Belial/Djeeta/Gran (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 61





	in act more graceful and humane

**Author's Note:**

> no ages are actually stated here but they are meant to be roughly danchou's canon age so like

The final words of the summoning spell provokes a brilliant burst of light from within the circle. Djeeta feels Gran beside her tensing up, breathing in sharply, and feels her own tension rising. She thinks of how when they were much younger, she would have held his hand and squeezed it in hers to calm him—and then, thinks of how she felt the last time she felt the warmth of his hand in hers, his bare skin, the thoughts it provoked, the look on his face and how she could see him tense up at the touch and knew he was thinking the same things. She thinks better of it.

The light settles and is replaced by mist, and within it, the silhouette of a humanoid figure rises, a shadow that looks deceptively normal. But even there she can sense the _power_ emanating from it, something much more potent than anything she's felt from the familiars around the house. Time seems to pass all too slowly as the mist fades, parting as the figure emerges within it, and all of her magical sensors go haywire with it as is comes closer and she's able to sense the full breadth of the creature's power.

Although _creature_ seems wrong to describe the demon as they catch sight of him—had she not known better she would simply think of him as a man. As the mist fades and his slow, languid steps lead him close, his features come into view—dark hair and clothing, a handsome face, broad shoulders. Tall, elegant, a muscular body exposed by frankly very immodest choice of clothing. Any other situation, she'd uncharitably think he looks like a worker from the red light district, though it's hardly as if either of them have a frame of reference for what that would look like; these the parts of the city, the two of them were never allowed to even come close to, not even think of it. Only the unnatural bright red color of his eyes betrays the demon's true inhuman nature.

There's another aura to him too—not just of power, not just a supernatural one. Although it's intense enough that is might as well be. Djeeta swallows around a lump in her throat. He walks as if he has all the time in the world—perhaps, probably he does, eyes passing over the two twins with mild interest, tilting his head.

"Well isn't this interesting. It's been a good long while since I've been invited over for a good ol’ classic double-team, so your summons had me curious from the start. But aren't you two a little young for that sort of thing?"

—Um, what?

She exchanges glances with Gran beside her, and he gives a subtle nod, encouraging, supportive, so she says:

"We have called you to serve as our familiar. State your name and classification, demon."

"So formal! You two sure are stiff. First time? I can tell. And jumping straight to the really intense and kinky stuff, too! Not that I'm judging—I can respect that boldness." He walks closer, closer, nearly reaching the two of them—and then hits the barrier with a loud noise. He raises his hands, reaches out towards the invisible walls as if to asses them, makes a knocking gesture that produces a harsh noise, as if he had been knocking on a metal or steel wall. He responds with a low whistle.

"Oho. Not bad. I've seen mages older—and more experienced—than both of you combined struggle with creating a barrier of this quality." Then he looks sideways towards them and waggles his brows meaningfully. "But if you want to restrain me, I'd rather you go all the way and tie me up. Can't fuck me from way over there now, can you? Unless you use magic to do it, but I'd rather have full on proper skin-on-skin contact for our first go."

... Surely they did not just actually summon an incubus? How would they explain that to Mother and Father, or the elders and the other mages in their family? Or would they be content with this particular demon? Would this serve the family's purposes either way? They weren't tasked with anything beyond simply calling a demon and harnessing its power, and only reluctantly, only because the two of them were the only ones in the family who could reliably succeed in both the summon and the binding. But even so, it would be—embarrassing. The thought that this was the creature that responded to their summons feels like a horrible, horrible confirmation of her worst thoughts, and it fills her with an equally horrible sinking feeling.

"Your name." Gran repeats, calmly, breaking her out of her thoughts. She knows he is as tense as her, that the calm and control is mere bravado, and the sight of it fills her heart with gratitude. She can't help admiring him all the more for it.

"Right, right." The demon looks like he's not listening. He walks around the space from within his barrier, looking around, assessing, curiously glancing at the rest of the room from beyond the barrier, the magical workshop the two twins share.

Then just as Djeeta is about to speak up and put her foot down, he suddenly stops in his place and turns back to stand in in front of the two, doing a little playful, mockingly exaggerated bow: "They call me Belial, the Primarch of Cunning." He looks back up, body still bowed, and winks. "And who would you be, my cute little summoners?"

Djeeta keeps her face neutral, and Gran's expression stays unchanged, in spite of their equal tension. "My name is Djeeta, and he is Gran. We are the heirs to the house of Reginleiv, a long line of mages, and we have summoned you to ask for your power, for you to serve as our familiar."

Gran follows up without her needing to give him the cue: "Until we perform the ritual to finalize our contract, you have no obligation to agree, should you decide the terms of the contract do not suit you."

Belial still doesn't look as if he's listening. He stands back up and continues to walk and look around. "'Our' familiar? You two really don't do anything separately. I don't mind, of course. Having one master could be fun, but having two is even better. I thought you performed the summon together because you weren't strong enough separately, but that's clearly not the case."

His eyes flicker back between the two of them, and he gives a shudder that's so blatant, so unrestrained, so clear in its meaning, it makes her face warm up, makes her want to flee in sheer discomfort from being exposed to it. "Oh yes. I can sense your power... mmmmm. Either of you could have done it on your own. I'm going to enjoy being the middle of this little threeway. It's not every day I get to have two cute virgins as my masters. Wonder if you have the stamina to match?"

Between her embarrassment, confusion, bafflement, frustration, trying to follow and understand what he's saying, Djeeta feels her self-control slip. "We're not..." And gathers herself back up. "You're not a demon of lust or sexuality. We didn't summon you for such purposes."

"Aw, are you embarrassed? How cute! And I didn't hear you deny the virgin part. Neither of you. Don't tell me neither of you have even had your first kiss yet?" He steps closer, leans in on the barrier as he would a wall—and then turns to Djeeta. "Such a shame to waste that lovely body and pretty lips. I could put them both to good use if you'd let me."

Before Djeeta can make sense of the mess of emotions within her, before she can get past the initial shock of the blunt, crass words, Gran snarls from beside her. "Stay back." He steps in front of her, staff in his hand. "Keep away from her or I will banish you back from whence you came within a second."

He turns to look at Gran with a condescending look. "Oh, I see. So that's why. We have an overprotective big brother on our hands." He clicks his tongue, in mocking disapproval. "Poor girl, doesn't even get to have her own sex life be her business. Does she know you're this obsessed with keeping her pure? The day she finally pops her cherry, are you going to look down on her for becoming an impure girl? Will you hate her for it?"

Gran grits his teeth. "I'm warning you."

"Your brother's quite a rude young man, missy. What a shame, he's such a handsome lad, I'd have been equally happy to take him for a round. Bet that's why he's also still a virgin. Unless…"

Belial's mouth twitches into a cruel smile.

"Unless, maybe, it's something more simple? Could it be it's for the same reason that you don't want anyone touching her? That you want to keep her to yourself?" His voice turns breathy, soft, seductive, sickeningly sweet— "Do you find the thought of someone taking her oh so precious purity so despicable because it belongs to you? Don't want anyone else except you defiling her little cunt?"

It all happens so fast— revulsion and excitement and thrill and disgust all at once overcoming her, her heart rate picking up at an insane speed until she can feel its heartbeat and pumping all the way up to her head, Gran's snarl turning all the more aggressive, his calm anger exploding into violence, and he practically rushes forward towards Belial, staff in hand— and her panicking when she realizes what he's about to do. "Gran, stop—!"

But it's too late. Gran steps over and the barrier's boundary, and the second he does, Belial zooms in on him, steps in close and presses a single finger to his forehead. There's a blinding flash of light, and her twin freezes at the spot. Djeeta feels cold dread take her as his whole body relaxes, goes limp and calm, and he stands still, unmoving, his staff thoughtlessly dropping to the floor.

"There we go, much better. Doesn't that feel nice?" The way his hands run over Gran's face, delicately, the pleased little sigh Gran lets out, the way he moves as if leaning into the touch— "You're even more cute when you're all tame, little puppy."

How dare he— how _dare_ he! "Don't touch him! Let him go!" A protective, almost possessive rage takes over Djeeta as she pulls out her own staff without thinking, and at the back of her mind suddenly realizes that she understands exactly what Gran must have felt just before, as she begins the summon of the most powerful spell in her arsenal. Belial looks over at her almost as bored, just as languid, barely a tilt of his head.

"Restrain her, won't you, boy?"

Before she can comprehend what's happening, Gran turns around, and she catches a glimpse of the look on his face— his empty, unseeing eyes, dazed expression, and the mix of horror and excitement that comes over is overwhelmed by shock when she feels him grab hold of her. It's been so long since she's felt his touch, his bare skin on hers, that she freezes, unable to even think of fighting him off, her staff too making a loud _bang_ as it drops to the wooden floor. His grasp on her is absolute and unyielding, keeping her firmly in place, and she struggles to move under his iron grip for more than one reason, wonders _since when has he gotten this strong_ , wonders about what it would be like to feel that on her when he—

—And curses herself. For her body, for her feelings, for being too intoxicated by just this brief contact, for her shameful, disgusting lust clouding her better judgment. For allowing the _one_ thing she promised herself not to allow to happen. For the weak willed way she tries to wring herself out of his grasp and her own disappointment at the thought of being parted from him after he finally touched her after _so_ long. For the way feeling him so close—so close that she can smell him, his natural scent and musk and the smell of his hair—makes her knees quiver.

"Now bring her here, and make sure to keep her down to so the little rabbit doesn't run off. I like the sight of a feisty little thing like her on her back."

Gran crosses the threshold of the barrier and she senses the magic as they pass through it, and before she can comprehend the meaning, Djeeta feels her back hitting the wooden floor painfully and her heart jumping when Gran presses his full weight on top of her, his hands and body holding her in place. His eyes looking through her more than at her, unseeing, still distant.

"Just like that. Aren't you two a sight like this?" Djeeta glares daggers at him.

"You still can't leave the barrier, and we're still the ones who summoned you here. Don't even think of trying to escape. We have an entire household of mages willing to mow you down on the spot."

"Hey now, you misunderstand me. As fun as that family gangbang would be, I'm _very_ interested in staying. But you two really didn't know what you're getting into, didn't you? Do you even realize what the ritual for binding me to you involved?" He walks up to Gran and stands near him, and Djeeta pauses, her brow furrowing in thought.

"The process differs from demon to demon." The spell is the same, with a basic template, and some unique additional process to it. But it's rarely something overly complicated or dangerous, contrary to expectations. Any gesture such as sacrificing blood is usually for the purpose of mana, or has more of a symbolic purpose connected to the demon's domain or nature.

"That's right. But next time try to aim for something a little more specific. To put it this way... it requires a, hm, exchange of bodily fluid with my contractor. In this case, that's both of you. At once."

... What.

_What?_

"B—" She stutters ungracefully. "B-Both at once?"

"'Course. That's how you summoned me, right? You two want to have equal power over me, to bind me to you both the same way, you'll have to both take me the same way."

Embarrassment and horror wash over her as she looks at Gran. Some measure of himself seems to be breaking through whatever controlling spell Belial put on him, because his expression is a little less vague, less distant and more animated—she sees him comprehend the meaning of the words, sees the discomfort in it, sees him physically strain against the magic control keeping him in place, trying to fight it off. His awareness is returning, but the charm clearly has enough of an unrelenting grip of his control of his body.

"Ah, well. We'll cross that bridge later. There's another matter to get to first."

Belial ignores the acidic glare Djeeta sends him, instead eyeing her brother, perfectly neutral, perfectly expressionless. The silence lasts for a moment, broken only by Gran's strained breathing and her pounding heart, then—

"Gran." The twins both jolt lightly at the sound of the name, so plainly said, coming from Belial. He leans in close to Gran and whispers in a sultry voice that makes even Djeeta shiver from beneath him—"You want to fuck her, don't you?"

She sees Gran's eyes widen as they both freeze in unison. If the words send an electric shock of fear and alarm straight through her even as they make her throb from between her legs, then she can't imagine how Gran feels, all the more so to hear them while being restrained and unable to react.

"Oh yes you do." Belial purrs, low and sweet, into Gran's ear. "I can see it. You've wanted to for _so_ long and _so_ badly you can hardly stand it yourself. And how couldn't you? Just _look_ at her." Belial's eyes run down her body, his eyes lecherous and cruel to match his smile, a contrast to the way his hand moves so gently downward to caress Gran, his chest, stomach, and then—"Her body's so inviting, _so_ fuckable..." His voice drops so low even Djeeta can't hear it, and he says something just as he strokes the front of Gran's trousers that makes him draw a shuddering breath. She feels her brother's eyes on her, sees him fighting off his own urges, struggling and failing not to look—seen the same conflict play over his face so many times, has felt it on her own, both of them keenly aware of and refusing to acknowledge it, a silent tension that has built up for years and years.

And then this man comes in and breaks the lock they've kept on it, let it all burst out in the open. Ice-cold fear washes over her, making her heart pound, her vision go blurry, but somewhere beneath it—the crude words, the lecherous gaze, Gran's eyes on her, they make her heart pound with something else entirely.

Belial turns his eyes down towards Djeeta, and his voice goes back up, still a low croon but deliberately enough for her to hear—"It must have been so hard to hold back from just taking her by force, with her walking around so shamelessly tempting you, _seducing_ you. Don't you want to punish her for provoking your lust? Don't you want to give this naughty, slutty girl what she's been so clearly asking for?"

The ice-cold fear melts away in an instant; the words make her face burn hot with indignation, fury and rage boiling in her, and yet at the same time—for all that his words are cruel lies, and they all know it—with shame, too. It should kill all her arousal and excitement, but instead the moment she hears the word _punish_ it spurs it on, bringing to mind scenarios and mental images she'd use in a desperate attempt stave off her cravings with her own fingers; a longing deep within her she struggles to squash, to make these fantasies reality.

"You're despicable." She spits out without thinking, an instinctive, defensive reaction, led only by her disgust and rage. His eyes run over her face, not so lecherous but still probing, not at her body, but at her mind, her heart—as if he sees right through her, every thought and emotion and warring feelings, as if witnessing all those shameful memories and conjuring her own fantasies before him with a mere glance.

"But am I wrong? You want him to fuck you just as badly, don't you, young lady?" Before Djeeta can get her bearings enough to respond, he sighs: "And you've been forcing yourselves to ignore it for _so_ long, you poor things. I could just smell the repressed lust coming off from both of you from the second I materialized. It's a real tragedy for two good-looking things like you to still be virgins when you both have each other as perfectly willing partners right here, don't you think?" He moves to stand behind Gran, who remains still and unmoving, panting slightly, tension and pain breaking through the vague stillness of his expression, with a very noticeable bulge in his pants that makes Djeeta's mouth water.

"So why don't you just let it all go? Isn't this the perfect opportunity? You can say you did it for the sake of the ritual; nobody can object to that. You were just doing your duty, and I'll be right here help out, guide you through it. We'll all have some fun together. Everyone wins." 

It's not—unreasonable, what he's saying, in a way. The way he phrases it—it certainly does sound convincing. Here, within the basement, within the darkness, where they are unperturbed, where she knows nobody is going to come looking out of fear of interrupting such a delicate, dangerous ritual—no one has to know. No one has to see.

And the truth is… the truth is, she's _tired_. Of fighting it, of suppressing it, of forcing it down, of pretending they don't both feel this attraction and both know it. And she knows Gran is too. Knows they have felt this potent silent tension for years and years and that their close childhood friendship has suffered for their desperate struggle not to acknowledge these desires, and it's wearing on them.

And this man—this demon—well. To be forced to spread her legs to a stranger, even for the sake of her family duty, is one thing, and normally the very thought would be revolting. But with him—she glances briefly back at Belial, and realizes that she would have probably been very happy, flattered, even, to be propositioned by him under normal circumstances. Had he simply been a regular man she'd known as an acquaintance, she'd likely thrown herself at him. The knowledge that it would be improper and wrong of someone of her station and status would only spur her on. Even with her desperate, secret hope that she could save her first time for Gran. Maybe she would do it, just to stave off these feelings, to redirect this pent-up lust towards somewhere safer, somewhere that feels a little less wrong. But she doesn't have to choose, now.

Speaking of which. One thing still confuses her—"What about you? The ritual—aren't you going to...?"

"We'll get to that, don't you worry. But I'm a generous man; I can see you two need to get it out of your systems first. So what do you say?" His hand slides across Gran's shoulder.

Djeeta has to bite down on her lip and try to think rationally, to think beyond the sensation of Gran's full weight on top of her, to think beyond the feel of his hands and the bulge in his pants pressing against her. But even then, Belial's words ring true. In their own way they feel comforting. Freeing. The thought of finally breaking through these shackles and letting him have her, letting herself have what she wants, what both of them want, and even more—the thrill of what Belial's suggestion. The world of pleasure his words promise. The comfort of knowing she gets to be accompanied and assisted by the guidance of what's clearly an expert hand—even if it belongs to a demon.

Something in Gran's eyes clears for a moment, and he looks down towards her. She can see his own shame returning through the haze of desire even as its grip doesn't loosen. "Djeeta... I... " He swallows heavily, guilt in his eyes.

"...It's fine. You can... you can do it. I—I want you to."

"Do what, hm?" Belial prompts, dragging out every word and vowel in a sing-song tone. "Co—me o—n, _sa—y i—t_."

She takes a deep, deep breath, steadies herself, and doing her best within her limited mobility, to present herself to him, to show him her relinquishment to his will, says—

"You can fuck me."

Gran's eyes go wide, his breath coming in as a gasp. "Well said." Belial stands back. "Have at her, puppy."

And it's as if these words—hers, or Belial's, or both—break all his reason or rationality. Gran's expression clouds over again, and instantly he's on her, pouncing on her with such force, letting her go only to grab her by the wrists to pin her down, pressing his whole body against her, chest to chest, and then their mouths together in a filthy wet kiss. She relishes the taste of him, the way he slips his tongue inside with no finesse, no consideration, kisses her as if trying to eat her alive. She couldn't imagine anything better as a first kiss—no one better to have it with.

She welcomes it all, welcomes the force with which he holds her down, relishes the way she can barely move her own body as he grinds and moves against her, welcomes the mindless, animalistic desire etched in every gesture and movement.

She welcomes it, with the distinct awareness that this is Belial's doing, that whatever demonic charm he put on him is making Gran act this way. When he starts to grope her, pawing at her body roughly, pressing his mouth into her neck, she turns her head towards Belial. "W-what did you do to him?"

"Don't worry, it's not permanent. Why, is there a problem with the results?" Gran starts slowly tearing off her robes, layer by layer, nearly coming close to ripping it off, all while kissing and sucking her neck, teeth scraping against her flesh, and when he sinks them in and bites, she gasps in a shock of pleasure, unable to answer. "No, I don't think there is. In fact, you look like you're quite enjoying it."

"T-that doesn't—ah!—a-answer my question." She fires back the best she can, struggling to get out her words through the pleasured shockwaves being sent down to her very core from the assault on her neck, the sensation of being stripped down roughly, layers of protection being removed with her clothing and more and more of her skin being exposed, of Gran's hands touching every bit bare fresh being exposed. Of Gran shifting against her and how she can very distinctly feel the bulge in his trousers pressing right between her legs.

"It's just a little spell. Something to relax him—under my _supervision,_ of course. But if you're asking if I'm making him do this, then no. This all him, completely unrestrained. Really, I'm impressed by it myself." Belial licks his lips and hums, a darkness in his eyes when he looks over them both. "Quite the hungry beast, isn't he? He sure didn't look it. Our cute little puppy's actually a hungry wolf."

Before she can think to answer, Gran's hands grope her thighs, her waist and hips, very nearly rip off her undershirt when he takes it off her to reveal her bare breasts. The last of her layers come off, Gran leaving her clothing lying in a pile around the two of them, and she's left completely exposed in front of her fully clothed brother, her whole body bared to him for the first time in years, only a simple pair socks remaining on her feet. Her brother, and the demon still standing next to both of them, watching intently.

They see her—all of her—every inch. She can't even cover herself like this, pinned beneath Gran, whose position above her just barely blocks some of her from Belial's sight. She can't bring herself to even think of having to see their expressions upon seeing her bare, exposed body—embarrassment and self-consciousness overcome her, and she looks away, unable to face either of them. Only for Gran to sit up and release his hold on her, briefly giving her a moment of reprieve, to breathe, and starts taking off his own robes and and undershirt, his gestures clumsy, hurried. Before she knows it, he unbuttons his trousers and—

Her heart rate speeds up as her eyes move to catch sight of him, exposed. Just as he hasn't seen her bare body in years, neither has she seen what he's like underneath. Last time they still hadn't entered puberty, were still children, blissfully unaware, with only the beginnings of sexual feelings approaching on the horizon. Now she finally catches sight of his body in full, and it's a sight to behold. All of it, his bare chest and legs— he's thin, wiry, with narrow shoulders, but with just the perfect amount of muscle and tone to be alluring on his naturally lithe build. And there, down between his legs...

Djeeta thinks her heart might stop in its tracks. Belial makes a low rumbling noise.

"Mmm... well, well, well. Would you look at that. Having a cock like _that_ around you all the time... can't blame you for wanting him to fuck you with it so badly. I can hardly wait to feel what it's like myself."

She's not sure what it is exactly about the sight of it that provokes such a reaction. It's perfectly normal, decently sized in proportion to Gran himself. She's not even sure what the reaction is—shock, or desire, or shame, or something else, or all of these things at once and more. She just knows that it's full and erect and standing at attention, and it's because of _her_ , and it's Gran's, and...

And she needs it inside her. Belial's not wrong. She's imagined it inside her so, so many times—the way it is now, with Gran on top of her, or beneath her with her riding him, or bent over the desk in her room with him behind her. Inside her mouth, or in her hands, with her on her knees or on top of him. With him grabbing her by the legs and spreading them apart as he does now—positioning himself between them with heavy breaths while he grips her hips and—

"Woah there. Slow down, boy."

Belial places his hand on Gran's shoulder, and he instantly stills at the touch. His expression goes calm again, slack. "I know you're itching to be in her already, but don't rush it. Don't you want her to enjoy herself? Don't you want to make her scream your name in pleasure? Savor the taste of your little rabbit before you eat her?" She feels Gran shiver, and he nods wordlessly. "Then you'd better get her properly ready, hm? It's a good first lesson to you about taking the lead." Belial eyes Djeeta meaningfully. "Both of you."

Before she can react to the implication, Belial leans in, guiding Gran down with him. They both move a little lower, right down where they can both see... between her legs...

"Spread your legs a little further there, missy. We need a good view of that cunt of yours." For a moment, Djeeta feels her mind short-circuit. The crude words leave her speechless and her face burns redder and hotter than anything she's ever remembered before.

"W... w-what... but..." To show... herself... to show all of _that_... to him...? To _both_ of them...? Panic sets in and suddenly she's not so sure about this after all, and she's caught between the need and the fear spurring her on to run. "But it's..."

She presses her lips together tightly, embarrassment and shock numbing her ability to articulate herself. Belial seems to understand. "Are you shy? Embarrassed? Self-conscious?" As much as she hates to admit it to him in any way, this way at least spares her needing to do so out loud. She nods quietly. "How cute. Virgins really are the best. Take so much more effort, but always more than worth the payoff. Well, for what it's worth, I think you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You've got a great body." Belial nods towards Gran, his expression vacant and hazy-eyed. "He clearly thinks so too."

The way he phrases it has her firing back on impulse: "That couldn't possibly sound less like a compliment, coming from you."

"Don't worry, there's plenty more where that came from. But I'd like to get on with it, and I'm sure you will too."

Djeeta sighs. She squeezes her eyes shut and turns her head away as she does as told. "Can you at least... can you do me a favor?"

"Hm?"

"Can you turn it off? Whatever you did to him." The words come out in a rush, growing faster with each syllable—"I don't—it's not right and not fair if he's not lucid during our first time." She takes a breath after, and swallows, still unable to look him in the eye. "We should do this properly. And he should be allowed to remember."

"Now isn't that sweet. So cute how you're trying to make this into your special first time together even now. But I see your point, and actually, you're right. He _should_ remember."

And with these words, Belial unceremoniously snaps his fingers. Immediately, she hears a change in Gran's breathing, and turns her head back and faces him staring at her with wide, shocked eyes, breathing heavily.

"I—Djeeta, I'm so sorry—was I rough with you? Did I hurt you? I couldn't control it... couldn't think..."

Immediately she hushes him, pressing a hand into his hair, to the side of his face, caressing him. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes, his expression looking as if it's fighting between frustration and bliss. "It's okay." She says softly. "You didn't hurt me or do anything bad. It's—more than okay. I liked it. I've—I've always wanted you to..."

He opens his eyes again, and she sees so many different emotions passing over his face that she can't keep track of it all. "I want to do this." She goes on, quietly. "I've wanted for so long. I know you also do. And..." He voice lowers into a bashful whisper. "If you want to be a little rough again... I'd like that too."

All her fears about what this moment would look like should it ever come are shattered the second she sees the look in Gran's eyes. It's earnest understanding, accepting, kind— the way he always is. He brushes her hair out of her face, stroking it as she does his.

"Okay." He nods, a little shakily. "Okay. I'll—I'll make it good for you, alright? For both of us. Trust in me. I want it to be good for you."

At the back of her mind, she expects Belial to make some sort of mocking comment through this whole exchange, but he stays silent through it all. And she decides to ignore him, to focus on Gran before her, instead—stare into his eyes when he looks into hers, their glances searching, an unsaid understanding passing between them, something that words alone cannot express.

She kisses him, this time. With his face cupped in her hands, with her fingers stroking his hair, with him leaning and embracing her in his arms. At first slow and gentle, almost chaste, taking her sweet time to let the kiss turn from slow and romantic to sensual, as it was earlier, to wet and messy, their tongues sliding and flicking against each other.

It feels good, but she knows where she desperately wants his hands the most. Feeling bold and impatient as they kiss, she grabs his hand and presses it directly to her chest. He pulls away from her mouth, meeting her determined, impatient stare with some fluster, but looks back down to her chest as if in wonder, then, hesitantly, squeezes the breast in his hand, both of them breathing in sharply at the sensation.

"That's right, give these some love." Belial speaks up again, for the first time. He's suddenly close by again—again? When did he move away— and standing behind Gran, hands on his back. "They feel amazing, right? So smooth and soft. I could play with a nice pair of tits like these for hours—and those pretty nipples should be plenty sensitive, too. Make sure to give them a lot of attention too. Suck on them, pinch them, give them a little bite while you're at it."

Gran swallows, his cheeks redder than ever, and grumbles. "You don't have to instruct me. I know how sex works." He grimaces, looking to the side as if from behind him to Belial. "Also, can you shut up? You're ruining the mood."

Behind him, Belial looks amused, and does a little chuckle in response. But Gran does as told, taking both breasts into his hands and squeezing gently, playing with them, rolling them in his hands. She's unable to hold in a gasp when he takes one nipple into his mouth and sucks gently, with only the slightest hint of teeth as his hand squeezes her other breast, gently kneading for a moment before taking the nipple between his fingers and rolling it between them. The dual assault on both these makes Djeeta gasp out something that might be his name, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her thighs together on instinct, desperate for relief.

As if on cue, Gran presses a hand to her thighs in a caress, then slips it in between them—not to part them, but stroking at her sensitive skin, so, so close to the throbbing heat between her legs as his mouth keeps on sucking and kissing her breast. She shivers and sighs in pleasure at the touch, and he takes his mouth of her for a moment, looking at her with a questioning, considerate expression. "Can I...?"

Instantly understanding, she nods, and parts her legs for him again—and this time, moves her hands between her legs and spreads apart her lower lips and brushing the hair out of the way for him to access.

"Hmmm, I'd tell you to eat her out, but that's a bit of a tall order for a virgin. Ah, well, I'll have plenty of time to teach you how to eat pussy. And teach her how to suck cock, while I'm at it." Belial's voice startles her, interrupting any unwelcome train of thought that might have come, and he winks from behind Gran at them both. "Trust me, as someone who's mastered both, by the time I'm done, you'll be pros."

"Ugh." The grimace Gran makes matches the one Djeeta sends directly Belial's way. "I told you to shut up."

"You do at least know what a clitoris, right? I'd hate to see such ripe virgin cunt get mistreated by someone who doesn't know what he's doing."

"Oh my god _yes_ I _know._ And stop talking about her that way, you're disgusting."

Belial puts his hands up in mock-surrender. "Just making sure."

She looks back to Gran, and they exchange exasperated glances. But she doesn't want to focus on their odd spectator, with him right in front of her, and so close to getting what they've been needing and wanting. "Gran... come on. Touch me." She presses her hand to the one that's between her legs. "Your hands... here..."

He doesn't need to be told twice, or explained what she means. The fingers she's dreamed and thought of for so long finally come to press between her folds and into the soft flesh beneath, right into her clit, and start to stroke her in a circling motion—pleasant, and right, and _good_ , his fingers directly prodding into the source of her throbbing, sparkling electric waves of pleasure, and then Gran's unoccupied hand starts playing with her breast again while he presses his mouth to the other again—he's everywhere, all over her, touching her, the pleasure building up within her at his every stroke and motion, an endless, loving, gentle assault on her body. And her body responds, going pliant beneath his touch, welcoming it, embracing it.

He touches her as if he knows everything about her body by instinct alone, knows it deepest secrets and depths. Djeeta thinks maybe he does, that maybe he understands her body as if it were his own. They had come into the world together, lived their whole lives together, known each other’s hearts and souls so well, better than their own parents, better than anyone around them. Shared and spent more time with each other than they have with anyone else. Unable to imagine life without the other, as if they were both two halves of the same person, as if they had shared a soul.

Then—in this moment, with him touching her, with this divine, blissful pleasure, it feels as if perhaps it's not shameful but only right and natural that they would come together like this, too. That they would be each other's firsts, that they would share every part of themselves with the other—not an aberration, but an extension of what they already have. It feels good, so good, so natural and so right, as if it were meant to be. She needs more, wants more, wants to feel this every day for her whole life.

She doesn't realize that she's been softly chanting and calling his name until a particularly intense jolt of electric pleasure interrupts her, and she cries out. She's close—but not yet, not yet, not before...

"O—kay, I think she's ready." As if he had sensed her thoughts, Belial appears out of nowhere, suddenly so _close_ , his voice louder and closer than anything she's ever heard before—he rests his head on Gran's shoulder, makes himself comfortable—he seems to press his whole body into him as stares straight into her, between her legs, and whistles. "Yep, sure is. Just look at how wet she is. Look at that perfect little cunt. She wants you _so_ badly, Gran. She needs you to take her, use her, to claim her as your property." He presses a gentle kiss to Gran's ear and bites it, bringing out a pleasured shiver out of him, a conflicted expression that matches Djeeta's own feelings at the sight, and breathes into his ear: "To _fuck_ her."

The noise Gran makes at this is almost a moan, and Djeeta wishes desperately to hear it again. To be the cause of it, this time. Belial's crude words—a lewd, lowly corruption of her own feelings— and yet, again, he's not completely wrong. They belong to each other—he's hers as much as she is his, and she wants to feel it on her own body, his mark, his claim, and to leave her own marks on him. She wants to make love to him, as his other half, and to be fucked by him, as his sister and lover.

She raises her head and kisses him again, quick and chaste, to distract him from Belial, and, before the gesture can strain her neck too much, pulls away, taking his hands in hers and pressing them into her hips. "Go on." She whispers and relaxes her entire body, spreading her legs as far as she can, presenting herself to him, urging him to do just as Belial has said. "I'm ready... I want you inside me."

Her voice sounds desperate, cracked to her own ears, almost wheezy—pitiful, really, as far as it can be from sultry, but Gran swallows audibly in reaction as if it had been one of Belial's seductive whispers into his ear, and better.

A bit clumsy, he shifts to adjust his position, lining himself up against her, the tip of his cock just barely touching her pussy. Djeeta feels her heart beat madly with anticipation and thrill, the realization of what's going to happen suddenly hitting her, and within the thrill and excitement is a pure and unfiltered joy and relief. She looks up at him and smiles shakily, and he meets her expression with one to match—uncertain and clumsy, but she feels his warmth and love in it, the moment that they've long so feared yet wanted finally becoming reality, and it feeling better and more right than anything either could have imagined.

And, slowly, with a deep breath, he slides himself inside of her.

Her body welcomes him in, gladly, her own core open to him and accepting, embracing him. It makes a filthy wet noise that she relishes, and she feels him shiver and gasp above her, he's so _close_ , feels his breath against her, and makes a low, shivering moan as he slides in deeper. She urges him in, wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders, embracing him as her own body does his cock—and then he slides in nearly all the way to the base until she can feel him close to hitting something inside of her, pulls out, and begins to move.

His thrusts start slow and deliberate, gentle in a way both uncertain and considerate—every time he slowly slides out she feels a loss; every time he goes back inside she feels her heart leap in pleasure. Steadily, steadily, he picks up his pace, the breaks and moments where she feels his absence becoming shorter, his movements becoming swifter, more rushed, and as he does, his face buried in her neck, his breathing quickens, turning into quick, heavy pants.

His movements become fast, relentless, almost a violent barrage—he changes the angle hits something inside her, something that kicks it into overdrive and the pleasure makes her dizzy, makes her lose touch of reality. Forget everything except this divine, intoxicating feeling, this single moment of existence. How could they have been ashamed of themselves, for wanting this, for craving it? How could they have thought it filthy or wrong, when it feels so sacred, so natural and right?

Before she knows it, Belial is right beside them, encouraging, talking them through it. Just barely, she manages to register his voice and words through the mixed sounds of their voices and the contact of their bodies.

"That's it. Just like that. Oh, excellent. Looks like you found her little sweet spot. Keep hitting that, and pay attention to her reactions, too." He says to Gran, his voice calming, soothing. Sometimes, he talks to her instead—her eyes squeezed shut, she can't see him, but his voice is just as calming, massaging any remaining tension as if it were his hands on her shoulders, encouraging her to lose herself further. "Good job. You're doing great. What a good girl. Doesn't that feel wonderful? Make sure to moan nice and loud to let him know, and squeeze that cock inside you nice and good so _really_ feels it."

She can feel Gran losing himself, too—can feel it in the unforgiving vice grip of his hands on her hips, the way his fingers and nails dig into her skin, in the way his thrusts grow more forceful as they pick up speed. The way he pushes himself out of her desperate embrace and pins her the floor again—grabbing her by the forearms, restraining her, keeping her in place under his grasp, only her legs wrapped around his waist offering any willing movement. She encourages his force, wrapping her legs around him tighter, gasping out _yes, like that, just like that_ and _please_ and _rougher, harder_.

Belial leans close and stage whispers into Gran's ear— "Doesn't her pussy feel amazing?" Gran nods, desperate, obedient. "Say it. Tell her exactly how it feels."

"I-it does..." He manages to say, between the most wonderful sounding moans that are music to her ears. "So good... Djeeta, you're so... perfectly tight, you feel amazing… and inside of you... it's so wet, and the way you're... coiling around me..."

Apparently satisfied, he turns to look to Djeeta. "His cock is incredible, right? Doesn't it feel _so_ good inside you? How he's hitting all your most sensitive spots? What a good boy he is, doing his best to please you."

"Yes!" Her back arching and limbs flailing at the mounting building pleasure, she cries out in complete abandon, abandoning all shame and thought in her pleasure. "It's so—so good—ah, I'm close, Gran, so close, just a bit more—"

"Me too—" He leans down and kisses her again, the gentle movement a contrast to his still unforgiving grip on her. "Together... with me, let’s come together…"

It only takes just a few more thrusts, and she does—her mind going wonderfully, blissfully blank as pleasure shoots up in every vein and nerve, the world forgotten beyond this single sensation. A familiar sensation, yet amplified and intensified in ways she never imagined it could be, simply by having the cause be Gran himself instead of her own fingers and fantasies. She doesn't know if Gran comes at the same time or after, only knows that there's a point where she feels a surge of wonderful warm, thick fluid filling her up, and sighs at the satisfying sensation that seems to prolong and push the limits of how long this high can last before coming down.

And it lasts for what seems like an eternity, her moaning and crying out Gran's name through her orgasm, before the intense throbbing pumping slowly subsides, and she closes her mouth, feeling her throat having gone dry and cracked. Breathing heavily and panting, she looks up to meets Gran's similarly disheveled, blushing face, and finds he looks more handsome and alluring than ever before.

Gran smiles at her, just a little bashful, but she sees her satisfaction mirrored in his expression, meets it with her own smile, and gives a little laugh of disbelief. He releases his grip and slumps onto her body, going soft and pliant against her, pulling out of her as he does, and she closes her eyes as she runs her hands down the sweat-damp planes of his back, brushing her hands in his hair, the two of them breathing and panting in sync.

They remain like this for a little while before Djeeta hears footsteps, and opens her eyes to see Belial kneeling beside them. She wonders if she should maybe thank him, or at least feel some level of gratitude. His smile is indecipherable as always, and there's an edge of smug satisfaction to it—his intentions clearly weren't of the most altruistic or benevolent sort, yet they wouldn't have finally gotten to this point without him pushing them there.

"Glad you two had fun." He says. "But don't spend too much time basking in the afterglow. We've got something else to get to."

Right. That. The ritual. But her body still feels rather overstimulated, and impulsively rejects the thought of any more sex right now—and speaking of which, Gran looks back up at him and frowns. "Give us a bit more time. I can't bounce back that quickly. I'm still... well, you know. Refractory period."

"Oh, that's not going to be a problem, don't worry. Now come on, let’s not waste any more time. This is what you called me for in the first place, isn't it?"

The twins exchange uncertain glances, and Gran shrugs at her, having clearly come to the same conclusion that they might as well play along and see what he means. He stands up, helping Djeeta along the way and pulling her up while she winces in discomfort when her back muscles let her know exactly how unpleasant a surface the wooden floor is.

"Time for the main course." Belial approaches the magic circle, and starts to work on unbuckling his belts. "You can't imagine what it looks like from the side, his thick cock pounding your tight little cunt... ooh, I nearly came just from watching." He says with a low groan. "Can't wait anymore. I need to have both." He shoves his belts aside, and gestures towards the two of them with his hand. "Come here, both of you."

They approach the circle, and stand in front of him, uncertainly. Gran looks him up and down, frowning. "Uh..."

"I'd have liked to keep my clothes on, but it's going to be damn uncomfortable to move in them with both of you." Belial ignores him as he undresses, his pants dropping to the floor. He shoves them aside. "Now, I'm going to be going inside of you, my little rabbit—aren't you lucky, getting both his cock and mine in the same day, one right after the other? —while he's going to be inside of me. You two know what the incantation is for the ritual, right?"

"Yeah, about that—" Gran frowns, seeming to forget himself when Belial takes off his jacket to reveal his full, bare torso, and then remembering himself. "How am I going to… inside of you...? We don't have lube or anything... and um, we don't know any spells for that sort of thing."

"That won't be a problem either. Just trust me. Now come on, take your positions. You stand in front of me—" He gestures towards Djeeta, then to Gran. "And you behind me. Start the incantation when you're in place."

Still uncertain, the two do as told; and facing him like this, with him so close, she's suddenly struck by the sight of his bare, full body—just how _tall_ he is, and how big, everywhere, from his broad shoulders to his chest (the absurd thought of _his chest is bigger than mine_ comes to her), and though he's still in his absurdly mundane looking boxers (she was convinced he didn't wear any underwear—she's almost grateful that he does, really), when her eyes go down, the bulge she sees tenting them is…

"That look in your face is too cute. Are you nervous about taking it in? I'm a little bigger than him, but you'll be fine."

His fine, perfect body, his low, sultry voice, that sensual aura all around him—she wonders for a moment if they really did summon some kind of incubus, or at least some higher ranking demon of carnal pleasure. 'Primarch of Cunning' doesn't tell her very much.

"You don't have to tell me that." She shoots back. She can't see Gran from behind his massive bulk, so she calls back— "Gran, are you ready?"

Hearing an affirmative answer, Djeeta closes her eyes, focuses on the magic within her, the energy within the circle, and starts the incantation.

Something flickers, staggers, then comes alive—an energy, a power, bursts open as if to come alive, filling the air around them with mana—the force of it threatens to overwhelm her, but Djeeta simply breathes in and focuses on it, lets it be drawn into her, takes it for herself, guiding it gently within her as she always does with a skilled, steady, firm hand. Through the sound of pouring, overflowing mana in the air, she hears Gran, his speech in perfect rhythm with her own, senses his own magic reacting the same way, him guiding the power into him and taking hold of it the same way. Freezing cold air caresses her body only to be instantly turned into a gentle breeze, than a pleasant warmth of spring. A sparkling, crackling energy, and then—and then—

They finish the incantation, and on the very last syllable, the magic seems to surge, burst upwards again, multiplying, intensifying—something far beyond anything she's ever experience, and with it, at the same time—

" _Oh!_ " Djeeta trembles and nearly loses her balance, shivers running up her spine at the pleasure spiking up upwards from between her legs, sending her blood pumping, setting her whole body alight. "Oh, what... what is this...?" She feels as if she's floating, as if she had been detached from the earth and found herself on some other plane of existence composed of pleasure and sensuality alone. Sparks of pleasure running down, passing through her, _everywhere_ , from between her legs, her thighs, her hips, the tips of her breasts, right to her very center— she shifts in place, clenches her thighs together and vaguely registers that she's dripping wet, that her whole body's sensitivity has multiplied, and even that simple touch of her own skin is so pleasant as to offer brief relief. But not enough—more, she needs more, she needs—

Her eyes shoot open and she meets Belial's bright red eyes, his eyes narrowed, his smile thinned into something predatory. "Told you there's nothing to worry about." He turns his head. "How're you feeling back there, little puppy?"

Her brother sounds equally breathless and overwhelmed when he answers, "W-what did you do?"

"I didn't have to do anything. This binding ritual and me are old pals from way back when, so you could say it recognizes me. It's a considerate friend, making sure everything goes smoothly for us."

The binding ritual itself adjusted itself to suit his purposes? They were taught that such things happen, have heard of spells reacting and changing when recognizing specific beings— _very_ specific creatures; rare ones, with so much power, and themselves so ancient that the magic itself recognizes them as belonging to a whole other class of magical beings, and that a regular binding ritual is not enough for it. But then, if that's the case—just what is this creature? What exactly did they summon?

Again, as if hearing her thoughts, he laughs. "You really have no idea who and what I am, do you? Oh, you two really overshot it. That's what happens when you have this much power and no foresight. Ah, well, turned out fine for all of us in the end." Then glances down thoughtfully, utterly calm and composed—is he not feeling this unending onslaught of pleasure, or simply able to stay controlled through it? "Hm, this might be easier if we sit down."

Then he pulls down the waistband of his underwear, exposing himself completely. As he slips it off down his legs with practice eased and throws it to the side with the rest of his clothes, Djeeta, even though her dizzy, pleasure addled mind, can't help but gape at him.

"Oh my _god,_ " She blurts out before she can stop herself, bringing out another laugh out of him.

"It’s a lot to take in, I know, but you’ll do fine. Come on, get down here with me."

There's no thought of resistance, in light of this anticipation, in light of the burning flame of need coursing through her. The three of them kneel down on the shimmering marks of the magic circle, Belial spreading his legs, exposing himself from behind to Gran and directing her to do the same. She follows it enthusiastically, lining herself up in front of him as she had done with Gran, this time sitting up and leaning on the backs of her hands, her pose, she knows, so much more wanton and indecent, her open, dripping wetness facing his massive erection—she bites her lip at the sight of it. All tension forgotten at the thought that it's going to be in her soon, that Gran will be going inside him at the same time—that this, too, she gets to share with him.

All the warning she gets is a low, pleased moan coming from Gran when he goes inside of Belial, and both her and Belial gasp in unison and echo his noise when he slips inside her. It's nothing like earlier—absurdly, even though he's so much bigger, he slips in so much more smoothly and easily, and her body embraces and welcomes his cock the same way it did Gran's, or even more. Whatever discomfort or resistance she might have felt is completely absent, her body pliant and relaxed down to her very core.

Belial does not take his time. He pulls out and swiftly slams right back into her, his thrusts instantly becoming relentless and brutal, and just as quickly so does the heat within her overwhelm her; she clenches her fists, closes her eyes, arches her back and throws her head in a loud, pleasured cry, curling her toes at the onslaught of stimulation pulling at her from the inside. Whatever spot it is inside her that seems to amplify her pleasure, he finds it instantly, and she nearly loses her balance and falls flat on her back, barely holding herself upright. Beneath her own pleasured cries, Djeeta can hear Belial's pleased groans, Gran echoing the same sounds, hissing _oh_ and _yes_ and calling out both their names at different points. She focuses on the filthy wet sounds of their sex, on the sensation, keeps her eyes closed, but just hearing Belial lose some composure in the heat of pleasure adds another layer to the thrill of it all.

She wonders what they must look like right now from the side—Belial in between the two of them, his cock buried into her, with her legs spread wide in front of him, Gran behind him, face buried in his back and his own cock inside him. The shimmering light of the magic circle and the flowing magic around them, illuminating their naked bodies. It must be an utterly obscene picture, and yet the thought of it, the idea of how unfitting and unsuitable and improper it is for a girl like her, for the promised prodigies of a great and powerful magical family...

Somehow, it's all the more satisfying for it. If this is improper, if this is what all the world around them would be opposed to—just as they would their relationship, their feelings for each other—then this is entirely theirs. This demon and the connection they've created and found together—through their own power! Because they were stronger, because no one else in their oh-so-great house of mages could! It's no longer about family duty, about summoning a familiar to harness the power of as part of their role. This is the key—this is how they are to realize their ambitions, to break out of the bindings, to become adults! Real power—and real control over their own lives! To embrace each other, to embrace who they are, all their potential, and all that it means!

And that impulsive thought, combined with the way with a particularly satisfying thrust of his cock hits inside her, has her calling out—"Belial! With this ritual, you are bound to us! Swear your loyalty!"

She doesn't know what she expects his reaction to be when she opens his eyes again and sees his face. His face is damp with sweat, flushed with exertion, and she thinks there might be something just vaguely like surprise passing over it before he exhales a small bit of laughter. Some part of her expects him to mock them, but he answers in a steady voice:

"I swear it," he says. "To follow you wherever you go, to obey and listen to your every command, and only to the two of you."

"You're ours now," she breathes. " _Our_ familiar. Swear to stay by our side until the end!"

"I swear it. Until you either decide to release me, or until the moment of your deaths—whichever comes first."

"You belong to us," she stares him in the eye. "Only us. Your power, your skills, your abilities—they're ours to use at our discretion."

"Only yours, my cute little masters. My body, too—at your disposal, to make use of as you wish." He grunts. "Now— seal the contract, and come for me!”

At the words, as if on command—not as if, almost certainly on command—comes another spike of pleasure, and then, all at once—another thrust, another burst of warm fluid within her, and she feels so _full_ , and then the world goes white. The pleasure comes in twice, thrice, five times the intensity, until all her senses are gone, and she's screaming out, stars bursting before her eyes, all the world around her and all thoughts beyond it lost, forgotten, a single moment of pure bliss that slowly fades away into sweet, merciful darkness. She doesn't even realize she's blacked out until she wakes up again, feeling sore on the one hand yet pleasantly calm and satisfied on the other.

There's something else, too. Another, different sensation. She can sense the mana in the air so much clearly, now, her own, her brother's, can almost see its shapes and patterns if she tries—like some layer to her vision that she did not know existed and only been uncovered now. And the magic within her, it hums within her veins, vibrating, and it's different—still her own, still her mana, but amplified, _alive_. And within it there's something else, too. Something that amplifies it, something that seems to fill in an empty space within her—an entirely foreign force, but it feels so right, seems to fit within her like a perfect puzzle piece. And the feeling of it, the texture—smooth and flawless, the raw scope of its power feeling almost unworldly, almost divine.

Beyond everything else, she feels _powerful_. So much more than ever before, as if she could shape the very fabric of the world around her to her wishes if she chose. To test it, she absentmindedly raises her hand before her, summoning a ball of light from pure mana-- focuses on it, and it becomes a brilliant explosion of every color imaginable, like she's never seen before. She draws in a sharp breath just as she hears a matching one near her ear.

"Oh," comes a low croon from behind her, a low rumble from whatever it is she's leaning on. "How pretty. Just like you two."

It startles her, and she blinks twice, and the world seems to finally come into focus as she realizes there's a heavy weight at her side—Gran. Leaning on her shoulder, eyes half open but focusing on where her hands has just summoned the light, the two of them are resting on Belial's chest, who's sitting up and holding them both in place.

She meets his gaze, eyes wide with wonder and shock at the realization of what they have acquired. "That's... that was…"

He answers with a little murmur of agreement. "Yeah."

They let the moment continue like this, breathing softly as they come down from their high, basking in these sensations, Belial's massive hands rubbing soft, soothing circles into their bare skin, before he suddenly speaks up—"I like how you said 'ours' again, as if you two are interchangeable, like you’re not even separate people. What happens when the two of you disagree on something, or separate, or fight, hm? That'll put me in quite the jeopardy, given the terms of my contract."

She looks back up at him, meeting his elusive, mischievous gaze, looks back down to Gran—

And the two of them smile at each other.

"That's not going to happen." He says with a laugh, his hand coming to rest in hers, their fingers intertwining.

"It’s not," she nods. "No way."

Belial answers with a laugh of his own. "Alright." He says in a breezy tone. "But just for the record, I'm still a demon. You can trust me to uphold the terms of the contract and be loyal, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be a good boy all the time, you know? Being on the straight and narrow would drive anyone crazy with boredom. I'm sure _you_ would know. Of course, you're welcome to punish me when I'm bad."

Gran shrugs. "Fine. We can deal with that." And she nods, affirming.

"O—kay. Well then, in that case…"

They stand back up, somewhat sore, and it hits her that she's still unclothed—and yet comfortable in it. It feels like a normal, natural state. She's full of a confidence, of energy, of the mundane, non-magical kind— it's surely temporary, but it's so refreshing, for any shame or self-consciousness to feel like a distant memory, to feel so free of it, like a weight dropped off her shoulders.

"Time for me to meet the parents, and take a look at my new home. And as for you, my new masters…" Belial joins them, and with a flick of his finger, tosses their clothes back to them through the air right into their hands. "Have fun with your new powers. I'm _very much_ looking forward to seeing what you're going to do."

**Author's Note:**

> and then they all have a secret affair together right under the family's nose, and just. have lots of sex. all the time. every single day. and as time passes and they get stronger and continue to study their magic belial slowly encourages (and manipulates) them to turn over to the dark side and take over the world and go mad with power, thinking stuff like 'eh whether they go bad and fuck up and get taken down, or go bad and succeed, this is going to be plenty fun for me', and then they succeed, and turn to the dark side and take over the world and rule the world together, and have even more sex every day, this time on the throne, in front of everyone
> 
> or something. either way, you know, corruption.


End file.
